My hands worked their way into his tree-trunk thighs. I felt the urge to push harder as I jammed the bottom of my palms into the muscle.
“Damn, that feels nice. That quad has been aching for days.”
I let my fingers dig deeper; I tried to channel what I imagined a massage therapist would do; I’d never even gotten one myself, let alone received any training. I reveled in the feeling of his muscles expanding and contracting from the pressure I was exerting on them.
My crotch started to feel alive; I realized that blood was pumping into it. I was starting to get hard. All of my nervousness had been keeping it from happening earlier, but there was something about hearing Archer’s pleasured exaltation that flipped a switch.
I kept my distance from his jock’s pouch. I wasn’t feeling daring enough to convince him that a hand job was part of the process. That didn’t mean I was out of ideas. “Turn around,” I commanded.
Archer spun and faced the wall again. I hurriedly coated my palms with more lotion; I wedged my thumbs deep into the back of one of his thighs. I thought I heard him struggling to not let out a gasp. We both stayed silent as I worked over the right leg and then the left. I made sure to stop my fingers about one inch below the fabric clinging to the bottom of his luscious buns.
I pulled my hands away for a moment. I needed to steel myself for what I was going to do next; if I actually did it, it would be the boldest thing I’d ever done, period.
I frantically planted a hand onto each of his mounds and gently cupped them. I paused; I waited for him to startle, pull away, or turn around to deck me.
“Gotta do the glutes too, huh? Sorry about that. Better you than me, I guess.”
Archer just brushed it off. What the hell goes on in those locker rooms? I’d heard about physical therapists giving professional athletes deep tissue glute massages, but we were in high school.
I didn’t hesitate any longer, though. I let his massive ass fill my hands like it was two scoops of ice cream in a bowl. I felt the firmness of the huge muscles and the softness of the small layer of fat covering them. Even though I was a virgin and had always imagined I’d be a bottom, I still really loved asses for some reason. I hadn’t quite figured out how attraction worked for gay guys. I’d always assumed bottoms were only supposed to be turned on by dicks.
It was probably only sixty seconds of groping his derriere, but it felt like it lasted forever. I was freaked out, but also hornier than I’d ever been. My cock was at full mast; I finally had a reason to be happy that my oversized uniform swallowed me up.
I wanted more. It was like I was a contestant on a game show who was willing to risk the hundred grand I’d already won for the chance at bringing home a million.
“Okay… so I need you to get on your hands and knees for the next part.”
“Huh? Like, I’m a dog or something?”
“I guess. The instruction just said ‘hands and knees.’ This is my first time ever doing this, though, so I’m just following what it says.”
Archer lowered himself so he was on his knees. He was still much taller than me, but it felt nerve-racking to have us both kneeling on the floor next to one another – him exposed and me covered.
“Like this?”
Archer leaned forward so he was still facing the wall; he placed his palms flat against the floor. His glorious ass wobbled as he settled into his new position. The cheeks opened the smallest amount.
“Ruff! Woof woof! Ruff!”
I froze in place, feeling completely confused. Archer’s body began to shake as the giggles washed over him.
“Get it?” he asked. “I was pretending to be a dog!”
Jesus Christ? I wouldn’t be surprised if his body fat percent is higher than his total number of brain cells… and that’s saying something. I did smile, though. There was something about his idiocy that was irresistibly charming.
“That’s a good dog,” I said, joining in on the conceit.
“No, B. I’m not really a dog! I was just messing around with you. I gotcha good, huh?”
“Sure did.”
He was so complacent and trusting. I wondered how he’d gotten to be that way. I was still certain that he must have done his fair share of bullying guys like me, but I was starting to view him more as a mindless henchman than anything else.
“Okay, you gotta spread your legs. Let your knees slide out.”
“I don’t… I don’t understand.”
“Um… well, just pretend you’re wrestling. Your opponent is trying to squirm free underneath you, so you have to lower yourself onto him to pin him down.”
“Ohhhhhh…”
Archer’s legs began to slide away from one another. Saliva flooded into my mouth as I leered at his tight buns. They started to wrench further and further apart. He was moving with such a deliberate slowness; it almost felt like a mix between a tease and torture.
Is that…? Fuck, yes! The light from the fluorescents shone right between his canyon. A tender, pink pucker of skin had been exposed. My cock surged with energy as the reality of what I was seeing took hold.
“Stop! Stop! Hold that position right there!” My command must have sounded slightly panicked. My heart was a drummer playing a boisterous solo inside of my chest. I was so keyed up with excitement I was almost shaking.
Archer did as I said. He didn’t ask any questions or turn to look at me. He just waited.
“Just stay still,” I commanded.
I squeezed a small dollop of lotion onto the middle finger of my right hand. I reached out towards his two delectable mounds. I maneuvered my hand so it was sideways, then carefully navigated it through the entrance to his crevasse while avoiding touching the walls. It reminded me to that boardgame, Operation.
A jolt of electricity surged through my skin when my finger tip made contact with Archer’s rosebud. He let out a loud gasp. We both held our positions. I waited to see what he’d do.
“The health department is hella thorough. I’m so sorry they have you doing this, B. I’m sure this isn’t how you’d expected to start your work day.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
It was probably the most honest thing I’d said since I started my faux inspection. Not twenty-four hours earlier, I couldn’t have even imagined a hot jock letting me apply sunscreen to his back at the beach without rolling my eyes in disbelief. What I was doing to Archer – at work, no less! — was beyond incomprehensible.
I began to rub my soft, smooth fingertip against Archer’s tight hole. He started to squirm, but was clearly trying to maintain his composure. I traced its circumference lightly; I focused on the warmth emanating from it.
My cock was still rock hard. My balls were aching with excitement. I resisted the urge to touch myself with my free hand; I wasn’t quite that bold.
I began to press harder. I felt his tight hole pushing against me as I stroked the delicate tissue. Archer’s ass cheek shook as a spasm surged through his body.
“That feels so weird, man.” His voice had a breathy quality. I’d only ever heard anything like it when I’d watched porn. Am I… Am I turning him on? It felt unfathomable – a five-foot-six geeky weakling revving a muscle-bound jock’s sexual engine.